


just like a tattoo

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance, Greaser Keith AU, M/M, Top Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: don't @ me





	just like a tattoo

Keith kicks the door open, dropping his bag and tossing his keys in the bowl, hand reaching up to massage the ache in his neck. A heavy sigh drains out of him as he makes his way to the couch, dropping his weight into the cushions, too tired to even bother with turning on the TV today. There’s so much tension in every muscle of his body, especially in his back and arms, consequence of repairing faulty engine parts and wrestling U-joints in the drive shaft of worn down cars all day.

He’s almost asleep when he hears someone pad in from the kitchen. When he opens his eyes, all his exhaustion is immediately lifted, seeing Lance standing in front of him with a cold can of Corona in hand. Drenched in the glow of sunset spilling through the open window and swathed comfortably in one of Keith’s old t-shirts, he looks so, so soft. He must’ve taken a nap after his early morning shift, brown curls mussed like kitten fur, legs completely bare.

Popping the beer can open, Lance settles a knee onto the couch between the wide splay of Keith’s thighs and hands it to him, Keith accepting it gratefully before taking a long swig. By the time he’s done, Lance is already straddling his lap, setting himself comfortably in his favorite spot, uncaring that Keith’s wife-beater is stained with motor oil and coolant and sweat.

“How was your day?” he asks, sifting his fingers through Keith’s damp hair, blue eyes liquid warm. _God_ , he’s so damn beautiful. Keith will never stop being struck by how lucky he is, to be able to come home to Lance everyday like this.

“Kolivan chewed me out today, said I fucked up when I told one of the regulars they were shit at taking care of their bike.”

Lance laughs, dropping a kiss between Keith’s scowling brows. “Let me talk him into forgiving you. You know he loves me.”

Keith’s frown only deepens at that. “Which is exactly why I’m _not_ gonna let you do that.”

“Mmm, so possessive,” Lance hums. “You love me that much?”

_Do you really need an answer for that?_

“Tell me about your day,” Keith diverts instead, leaning up to kiss the ridge of Lance’s collarbone, neck, jawline. Lance giggles at Keith’s nuzzling, admonishing him yet hugging him close, peals of laughter fading to stories about what happened at the hospital today, the kids he’s taking care of in his unit.

Keith rests his head against Lance’s sternum and listens, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and their detergent. Every ache from the day melts away. All that’s left — all that _matters_ — is Lance.

Maybe they’ll go out and see a movie tonight, or order delivery and simply curl up on the couch. Keith wants to treat Lance to something special though, _anything you want, sweetheart_ , because he deserves the world and so much more. 

But right now…

Keith downs his beer and crumples it to the side, hands free to drag over the suppleness of Lance’s legs, from ankle to thigh. The smooth skin is velvet against his calluses, softer than any material he’ll ever touch.

“Are you wearing anything underneath?”

He watches as Lance shivers at the rasp of his voice, meets him halfway when his hips grind down on the hardening thick of his cock.

“Why don’t you find out?”

 

———

 

Coming home from work is always the best part of the day.

If heaven really exists, Keith’s already seen it. Lived in it, every time he steps through the door into the foyer of his home to find Lance waiting for him, blue eyes akin to an angel’s and smile just as sweet.

“Welcome home,” Lance would say, tilting his head up to accept Keith’s searing kiss. And they might always be tired after a long, grueling shift, but never too tired for each other.

Today, Lance is freshly showered, and he smells _so_ _good_. Keith grips his still damp hair and pulls his head back, exposing the flush of his throat for Keith to kiss and bite. Lance cants his hips against Keith’s thigh, whining so sweetly, keening when Keith grips the plump cheek of his ass and squeezes.

“Wanna taste you, please,” he begs, breathy and broken, and Keith releases him.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Lance immediately drops to his knees, fingers deftly removing Keith’s belt and the fly of his pants. Lance’s eyes blow wide when he takes Keith out, already hot and hard and heavy, and sinks his nose into the coarse hairs there, breathing in as he drops a kiss to the vein pulsing on the side of Keith’s cock.

He’s insatiable — the way his nails dig into the meat of Keith’s thighs, the way he grinds his hips against the floor, helpless and wanton, seeking friction. The collar of his bathrobe slips down his shoulders as he bobs his head up and down, revealing the sweep of his collarbones and his pert brown nipples, begging to be bitten. Keith groans at how erotic the whole image is, head slamming back when Lance swallows him whole and moans around the taste.

Keith swears as he watches Lance’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat fluttering around Keith’s fat cock-head. Lance once told him that he loves the taste of him right after work — loves the musk and the tang and how wound up Keith is. Got adorably mad when Keith tried to sneak into the shower the first few times, dragging him back into the kitchen or living room or whatever open surface, keeping him there until he wrung Keith dry.

And Lance sucks dick like a champ. Will open his mouth wide and coat Keith in spit. Will fold his arms behind his back and let Keith use him, beg him even when Keith hesitates. 

When Keith wrenches himself away, Lance is already naked and dripping, laying down on the carpet and folding his legs up to reveal the gorgeous furl of his hole, twitching for Keith’s cock to fill. He grabs the backs of his knees and spreads them obscenely wide, the perfect picture of submission, and Keith can’t sink down fast enough to cage him in and mount him, no longer caring that he’s still drenched in sweat and dirt and fuel, bent on dirtying Lance just as much.

 

———

 

When Keith tried to get his first tattoo, he was sixteen with a fake ID.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t known that Adam was a friend (and soon to be boyfriend) of his adoptive brother’s at the time, and got promptly busted by the owner of the tattoo parlor.

Two years later, he got a forearm sleeve of flames in honor of his father, and every year after that he added more to his right arm: the coordinates to his home in Arizona, the symbol of his mother’s tribe, a lion for his stint in juvie before Shiro set him right.

There’s still room for more.

So on his twenty-fifth birthday, with Lance naked and warm beside him, Keith decides:

“I want to get a tattoo of your face on my bicep.”

“I would break up with you,” Lance says immediately. Keith is wounded. 

“Lance, I want to show how much you mean to me.”

“Please show it another way.”

Eventually, they compromise on Keith getting a heart tattoo with Lance’s name etched through it instead; a centerpiece on his arm, right beneath the cut of his shoulder. It’s not the same as a portrait of Lance’s face, but Keith grudgingly settles for it.

The next day, they show up at Adam’s parlor, who loves Lance more than his own brother-in-law. Which, honestly, is completely understandable.

As Adam preps his tools, Keith stretches his left hand out for Lance.

Lance flicks him a bemused eyebrow.

“What, are you scared?”

He takes Keith’s hand anyway and cradles it gently, lacing their fingers together.

“No, I just want to hold you,” Keith says, and smiles contently at Lance’s answering flush. 

 

———

 

There’s a whistle from the front of the garage.

“Yo, McClain, you looking _extra_ fine today. Damn.”

Keith looks up from the hood of the Mustang, his frustration and exhaustion instantly vanishing at the mention of his boyfriend. Framed in the light pouring through the open garage door, Lance struts in, heeled knee-high boots clicking across the concrete. He’s wearing a cropped baby doll tank top and the tiniest jean shorts known to man, cupping his slim hips and perky butt just right.

Miles of smooth, sculpted legs are on display, and Keith can feel the envy of every man and woman in the garage as Lance hops into Keith’s arms, kissing him breathless.

“Missed me baby sweet?” Lance whispers teasingly against his lips. Keith groans in response, basically rendered speechless, and hoists Lance’s legs around his waist as he carries him away from their audience.

He can’t get Lance into the empty back office and naked fast enough. The only thing that makes him pause is the sight of Lance’s blue lace panties as he strips him down, the word ‘Keith’s’ stitched red across the thin fabric.

“I know you got super excited when I joked about getting a tattoo that says ‘property of Keith’ on my ass cheek, but I figured I could meet you halfway.”

Lance props his hands against the office couch and arches his back, smile coy as he sways his hips.

Keith might just pass out and die.

Maybe Lance refusing to get a tattoo was the better decision, considering what a piece of lingerie with his name on it is already doing to Keith. He thanks his lucky stars as he kneels down and drags the panties off almost reverently, kissing every inch of Lance’s bare skin.

Lance doesn’t bother muffling how loud he is as he’s stretched open on three thick fingers and a worshipping tongue. His mouth falls open, ecstatic, when Keith thrusts in, cock filling him perfectly. The pounding bass of the garage music is enough to hide most of his sounds, but Keith swears his coworkers can hear the fever pitch of Lance’s screams, incoherent and begging.

That’s fine, let them hear how good Keith’s fucking the sexiest man in the universe. Let them all hear how good Lance takes it, sucking Keith in like a vice, milking his cock with each stroke as his nails dig into the rocking couch, barely managing to hold himself up.

Keith presses against Lance’s back, mouth next to his ear.

“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you on one of the bikes outside. Let everyone watch as I breed your tight little hole and fill you up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Lance keens beneath him, and his hole tightens impossibly more. Pleasure crashes like an avalanche, his body shaking as he comes, and Keith fucks him through it, flipping him over to drive into him again and again and again—

They’re both drenched in sweat by the time Keith finally exerts himself, collapsing on the ruined couch beside Lance. Lance kisses his nose before shooing him to grab something to wipe themselves off, and Keith somehow manages the strength to wet a towel in the office bathroom, stumbling back to gently towel Lance off.

Thankfully, there’s a decorative afghan thrown over the arm of the couch, and Keith drags it over to cover the two of them as they snuggle up.

“I love you,” Lance says, kissing Keith’s nose again, then the corner of his mouth. Keith murmurs, “I love you, too,” and melts their lips together. Slow, unhurried, savoring every second.

“Kogane!” he hears Kolivan roar a few minutes later, just as they’re about to drift off to sleep. “I swear to God I will bust your head to the white meat if you fuck in my office one more time—!”

Lance giggles against Keith’s chest.

Keith kisses his hair and sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> don't @ me


End file.
